Blütenfarben
by satoru-13
Summary: France and Prussia during the Napoleonic Wars; two blind men talking of colours. France, Prussia, small appearance by chibi!Germany, mentions of Holy Roman Empire and Chibitalia. ONESHOT


Title: Blütenfarben  
Author: **satoru_13**  
Characters/Pairings: France, Prussia, small appearance by chibi!Germany, mentions of Holy Roman Empire and Chibitalia.  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: France and Prussia during the Napoleonic Wars; two blind men talking of colours.  
Warnings: Historical rants, lack of comprehensible writing, etc.  
Words: 954

A/N: Set in 1806, after the abdication of Francis II as Holy Roman Emperor, thus dissolving the Holy Roman Empire; and before the formation of the Fourth Coalition against the French Empire.

The sharp clack of boots stamping up the stairs is what he hears first, before the heavy pound of a fist on his extravagant oak door. When France sets his glass down, rises from his chair and opens the door, his visitor is as unruly as is notoriously usual, and that mop of silver hair is inside and onto the rich armchair without as much as a greeting.

France thinks that he should be used to it by now, but as Prussia's booted feet slam up onto the table and downs the crimson contents of the wine glass he had set down moments before, without any indication of having tasted it, France still cringes. Prussia sets the glass down with a clink louder than should be proper, and France begins to worry for his smoothly-sanded and waxed table, as well as his glass.

When Prussia first speaks it is after a long silence, with lowered voice and low-lying emotion. "I suppose you are satisfied now?" He says casually, quietly. His French is accented, rough and gravelly and much less flowing and elegant than it should be _(maybe it is just the speaker)_, but at least he has the decency to speak it.

France laughs, without mirth. "Why, good morning, Gilbert. Such a greeting you have given me, and yet none of which I did not expect."  
"I am glad you expected it; it shows you may still have some sense of guilt in you yet."

He smiles lightly. "Of course, dear Gilbert."

Prussia rests his elbows on the armrests, and laces his fingers together. "I gather you realise that I am not here for light conversation?" His nonchalance is painfully see-through, and France thinks that it is strange, _since when did Gilbert speak on anything other than his first thought? _A sigh, _people change,_ he supposes, _although he is in great need of improved acting yet._

Mirth dances over France's features. "Yes." The smile does not reach to his eyes, cold and harsh for the soft blue that they were. "It is unlike you to be like this, Gilbert." He prompts.

There is a silence – and when Prussia speaks again it is in German, the angry syllables forcing themselves past his lips. "You killed him, France, when he was already so close to collapsing."

He shrugs, and tosses blond locks behind his shoulder in a fluid movement. "He would have died sooner or later. I simply felt compelled to relieve him from his agony." And then his next thought is, _ah yes, he was his younger brother–_ Because as soon as the words trail from his lips, Prussia swings up from his sedentary position and slams gloved palms onto the table, blood-red eyes burning with rage.

(He wonders what has happened to himself as well, because usually he would be the one to pay attention to the words he selects. _What has happened, dear Gilbert, to make you so mild and me so frank? "And made you so sentimental, and me so cruel?"_ –he wants to add, but stamps down on the thought.)

"Bastard," Prussia snarls, and out of the pocket of his lace-lined coat he throws something onto the table; it is a paper packet, and when Prussia's long fingers deftly open it he reveals petals, scattered white petals, painstakingly retrieved from the battlefield and stained with red.

_('So?' He wants to ask, but he recognises it; he recognises that flower, clutched in those tiny hands – no doubt given to him by the one he held so dear.) __  
_  
France smiles, and with that he raises his voice, calling out – "Come now, child. I have someone to show you to."  
The door swings open soundlessly, gradually at first, on oiled hinges. First the small, pale hands, then the golden hair, then those beautiful sky-blue eyes, and then the child steps out from behind the door, into full view.

Prussia stiffens.

"_Du..._" He whispers, "_Du bist…_" He looks around wildly to France, the anger drained from his face, leaving only grief.

"_États confédérés du Rhin_." France leers, and he's not sure he likes the haughtiness with which his own voice speaks. "_Rheinbund_. You should know him well; he is your new brother, after all."

Prussia turns back to the child, movements rigid and features frozen. "I…I was not informed of this…" The edge finds its way back into his voice, and the next thing France knows those furious eyes are alight again, and Prussia is right in front of him, pulling his face close with a fistful of his shirt.

"Why," Prussia says, and his voice is not feral as it was but icy, "was this done, without my approval? Why was this matter, involving the German states, done, without my involvement, or even my notification?"

There is a silence again; and then, France throws his head back and laughs. "For the sake of my Empire, dear Gilbert."

He watches Prussia's face contort, the raw anger hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Prussia spits out; "_Alles hat ein Ende._"

He lets go of France, and gives one last, hard, long look at the child – and leaves.

When the echo of boots in long, angry strides is long gone, France is still standing at the doorframe, gazing down the cobbled road. When his features finally twist into a smile it is wistful, and it is on that note that he stands up and turns his back to the road.

"_Comment discourtois, mon cher Prusse._" He breathes, before – with a dainty movement – swinging his elegant door shut.

_(When it arrives, the declaration of war before him is much more real than he would like to believe. ___

_"Der Blinde erklärt dem Einäugigen die Farben." He murmurs. "Sot enfant…"). __  
_

Footnotes:   
The Battle of Austerlitz in 1805 effectively brought an end to the War of the Third Coalition. In the next year, the French-backed Confederation of the Rhine was formed, and the Holy Roman Empire ceased to exist; within a few months of the defeat, the Fourth Coalition formed, and war was upon France again.  
France was aiming towards peace in Europe at this point, especially towards the two main enemies, Britain and Russia. Napoleon also aimed to separate Prussia from these two enemies, and extended a treaty; however, relations quickly deteriorated with the formation of the Confederation of the Rhine – chibi!Germany, in my headcanon – and the "meddling" of German affairs without Prussian involvement or even consultation; resulting in the subsequent Prussian campaign of 1806, in which Prussia went to war against France, independent of any major power (save for Russia, who was too distant to send any aid).  
Prussia was defeated in nineteen days; Napoleon entered Berlin on the 27th of October, 1806. There he visited the tomb of Frederick the Great, and instructed his marshals to remove their hats, with the words – "If he were alive we wouldn't be here today."  
Translations:   
_États confédérés du Rhin_ (French), Rheinbund (German) – The Confederation of the Rhine.  
_Alles hat ein Ende_ (German) – A German proverb, literally "everything has an end." The second half of this proverb is _nur die Wurst hat zwei_, meaning "only a wurst has two." Fitting, definitely, but not quite the right situation, xDD.  
_Der Blinde erklärt dem Einäugigen die Farben_ (German) – A second German proverb, literally meaning "the blind man explains the colors to the one-eyed man"; meaning that someone is trying explain something they know nothing about.


End file.
